


questionable haircut decisions & bandanas

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Birthday Party, Childhood Friends, Drinking & Talking, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Haircuts, Idiots in Love, Lies, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, new teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:47:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29047128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Or Pierre has always been in love with Charles & they are both idiots.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc & Carlos Sainz Jr, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	questionable haircut decisions & bandanas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iwastemytimereading](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/gifts).



> Crywolf - Eyes Half Closed

“What did you do ?!”

“I cut my hair.”

“No but I mean, Pierre …”

In front of him, Charles lets out a noise, looking almost embarrassed as he lowers his head, his long eyelashes fluttering … 

“It's criminal. Me, I loved your locks.”

Pierre lets out a soft laugh. Carefree. Yes that's it. He doesn't really care about the critics, he just needed a change before the new season. A little bit of change. And if people have things to say, then it’s a shame for them.

“They are still there.” He sweeps his front hair as proof and his friend shakes his head, without agreeing. 

“Do you plan to dye them once again ?”

“I have not yet decided.”

Charles pouts, a slight silence settles between them. Before the Monegasque finds a new angle of conversation, as often. He may find him more talkative than himself, talking for hours. Or being able to talk for hours.

“Lots of pictures of you exercising, are you trying to seduce someone ?”

“Did you like the pictures ?”

There is a silence and if it weren't for such bad light, Pierre would say that the Monegasque is blushing. A red flush on his cheeks, maybe. It doesn't matter. He glances outside, the day fading, the sun on the horizon unraveling in a dozen different shades …

“Do you think we can see each other ? If you're passing through Monaco or …”

He smiles, he never refuses an opportunity to see his friend. The feelings are sweet in his chest, a little bitterness he can never really define but never anything serious. To seek only a little more. He doesn’t need to put a name on it, it wouldn’t feel right.

“Yes of course.”

A smile blooms on his friend's lips and he gazes at him distractedly, aware of his beauty, perhaps a little too much. Always too much.

He thinks he can do anything with Charles by his side and maybe that's the problem. One day, the boundaries have surely become too blurry. Which is never a good thing and he tries not to overthink it. Thinking about it never works. He doesn't want to make those feelings blossom. He doesn’t want to waste everything.

He can keep them with him without ever giving them away. He can have them in his chest, by his side, without developing them. He's been friends with Charles far too long for it to mean anything beyond what he allows himself. That’s the truth, that’s the only and everlasting truth.

And everything is pretty fine like that.

* * *

**You were the answer to my dreams**

**Your scent in me, so deep**

**I wanna tell you something**

**Dressed in a stunning red**

**Your head upon my chest**

**The pain inside means nothing**

* * *

Pierre is spending time in Dubai. To do something other than what he usually does. Lots of things, things all around. Hanging out with girls and rediscovering the familiarity of the illusion that has been more than one of his relationships. 

Love isn't supposed to look like that. To feel like that. 

He knows it, he hopes so.

But if he expects more from love, then he would say that nothing comes close to his expectations. Nothing could ever. And he also knows that his love for Charles, if he let it blossom freely in his chest, would probably be the greatest love he has ever known. The flame. The one and only.

But there are obstacles and there are problems on their roads. And there's a whole bunch of reasons why it's not a good idea to take stock of your sexuality in this way. Not when you’re a F1 driver. 

So he remains silent.

He should focus more on the coming season, on the opportunities to be seized, on everything that lies ahead rather than on what he wants to do or can do. He has to focus on the future, on his future. Rather than romance, feelings, seeking love interest. Something beyond him.

Reviews about his haircut make him laugh softly. He feels more carefree about his appearance. And maybe then, maybe, that's the key to having a quiet life. Not to care that much.

During all his activities, he has the opportunity more than once to take a very special white bandana out of his suitcase and tie it in his hair. He contemplates it, dreamy, a smile on his features. He can’t help but smile when he sees it.

A gift that always accompanies him.

Like many of their promises and memories forged together, something unforgettable and yet paltry. That means so much to him, to them maybe. A simple idea that could be erased with the wave of the hand, so quickly. 

That he prefers to keep with him.

* * *

**Take off your shirt and lay down**

**Right next to the pile of things we loved**

**When we were younger**

**Eyes half closed**

* * *

They're somewhere in the moment, to a point where they're both too shy to be normal, on this moment. They are never shy with each other, they've known each other too long for that. Since they were kids. Too long to have inhibitions in their everyday conversations and in their confidences then.

Charles came to his apartment soon after he had won Monza, almost falling into his arms. They saw each other on the trail and it seemed to be far from enough. And seeing the Monegasque lounging in his living room is incredibly pleasant.

The adrenaline has dropped, but he still has this electricity running through his body. This feeling, those feelings. If he closes his eyes, he can see it once again. The finish line. Pierre still cannot believe what happened, to believe that he has indeed won a Grand Prix, this Grand Prix there.

They dreamed of it as children, however.

His childhood friend hugs him, keeps him close, cradling him at arm's length, just as happy and proud as he is.

“Pierre, damn … you're amazing, you are so amazing.”

He laughs softly and when Charles pulls back they are still so close that for a moment he feels that what he has been waiting for can come true. What would it take for a kiss after all ? Just lean forward, barely a few inches between them. He could almost do it, he could close that gap between them.

“I know.” he answers, amused, in the tone of humor but his breath gets stuck in his throat because the gaze of the other pilot, his magnificent green, is so intense.

Then the moment breaks as Charles pulls back further, although apparently struggling to take his eyes off him, just as much as he does. He almost bumps into the coffee table because of that by the way.

“I … I have something for you. It's not much but I thought of you when I saw it and it's probably a good time to give it to you.”

“There was no point in finding me a present you know …”

“Oh no. Really, just, I … I wanted to.”

Pierre clears his throat, trying to get back into the present moment. He can’t help but drift away. So many things around. The Monegasque comes back to his side and shoves a small box in his hands, with a shy smile, and he wonders what it is at this stage.

“Open it ?”

He does as he's told and frowns when his fingers meet soft material. He unfolds the square of fabric. White with black patterns. A bandana.

“I hope you like it ?”

Charles is adorable.

He nods and, with a small smile, gives his friend another hug, perhaps reflecting a desire that is a little too deep. That he cannot express. But he just feels happy that the younger one thought of him. He feels lucky.

“Thanks, Charlie. Really.”

And, dammit, if he's happy ? Charles sparkles with joy.

* * *

**You were the answer that I had**

**But you weren't all I wanted**

**You weren't all I needed, oh**

* * *

The new season itself doesn't bring so many complications. They just both change teammates and if with Seb it was a marked admiration and respect, with Carlos, Pierre can not help but think that it can turn to more than a simple partnership. Almost suspicious, careful, but not yet concerned.

He is only there to observe from afar after all.

He would not have been one to bet on a legendary bond between the two Ferrari drivers, to be honest it is not that much one, but he cannot deny the spark, the little something that he finds between them sometimes.

He gets used to the idea that he won't necessarily be able to do anything about it. He's said it more than once, the mere thought of Charles being happy is enough for him. That’s all. And even if there will be no love, great flame, like what lights up in his chest from time to time when he sees him, he will not allow himself any regrets.

After so much waiting, he thinks - no, he knows - that feelings don't come about overnight. It doesn’t work like that.

And, of course, Carlos and Charles spend a lot of time together since they are teammates. Pierre supposes that it can help the choices of the heart and all its pranks. It's a shame, he sighs, basically, disappointed.

He's already fooled the world. If he could fool his own feelings now, that would be all he needs. He is Charles' best friend. He can’t do better than that.

Once his hair has grown back enough, he dyes his locks blonde again, trying to ignore the image that comes to his mind, Charles dreamily, telling him about how much he loved his old haircut.

* * *

**So, take a spot in front of me**

**And listen now, I'm coming clean**

**There's so many things**

**I think you should know**

* * *

At some point in the season, Carlos celebrates his birthday with people other than his family. Pierre is, strangely, invited, along with several other pilots. Without any idea for a good gift, he ends up bringing back a bottle of alcohol that is a little too expensive and the Spaniard seems delighted with his gift. 

He plans to spend the whole evening with the people he knows around him, Charles is his first choice, of course. Of those he was able to spot, Max, Daniel and Hulk aren't too far away either. He’s not alone and that’s a relief.

Then the highlight of the show-

Charles giving a gift to his teammate. A pretty box with the name of a designer he doesn't even pay attention to. The scene seems familiar to him. Then Carlos unfolds a red bandana, laughing as he discovers the gift.

Pierre bites his lip, his small gesture already erased. What was his, somehow. What he was content with. The scene is happy but, too far away, this warmth and this joy does not reach him. He looks down and when Max asks him if everything is alright, he responds with a smile, probably his prettiest.

But the idea was born in his mind, that of not staying too long at this party. 

And not to have one too many drinks.

He changes his drinks for water after a while, stepping out onto the balcony to let the fresh air clear his mind. He doesn't want to say things that he will clearly regret and this is bad. His everyday life makes him have a filter, restraint, and it is for a good reason. He can’t say everything he thinks. Max and Daniel disappeared ten minutes ago - or was it an hour? - and he's not sure he wants to know where they are.

“Aren't you enjoying the evening ?”

He shrugs, not believing himself to have an honest answer to Charles. He's tired and he's probably a little drunk. One like the other does not bode well.

“What's wrong ?”

“Nothing, you can go back to see Carlos, it's okay.” he lets it escape and his annoyance is already too visible, out of control. 

“What ?”

“You heard me very well.”

Charles grabs his arm to turn him and they suddenly face each other. Not a great thing, huh. The Monegasque has furrowed brows, incomprehension, a little anger too.

“What's wrong ?”

He snorts, contemptuously, disillusioned. Shrugging the shoulders. His friend bites his lip, seeming … he wouldn't know how to describe him, he doesn’t have enough words.

“Pierre …”

He makes this gesture that he would have liked to do so many times. This wish, this desire, he hated and craved so many times. He leans forward, closing the gap between their lips. It's simple. A barely spoken gesture. And once that's done, he doesn't wait much longer to leave.

* * *

**Take apart all the melodies**

**And deconstruct what's inside of me**

**You're all I wanna see before I go**

* * *

To his greatest regret, when he wakes up, Pierre remembers what happened during the evening. He remembers everything. What an idiot. Rule number one. He gets up and continues with his routine. It's early, he's not in the mood to go back to sleep. Not after remembering. His mistake, really.

He expects total silence from Charles, worse yet, he expects to have screwed everything up with a simple gesture. He expects … he doesn’t know what he expects. He wants to be forgiven. What has he done ?

What he doesn’t expect is the cacophony at his door, barely eleven o'clock.

Then, what he expects even less is that said door opens. He is however sure to have locked it, to have verified that this morning, and the scene is quite comical, he stands in the middle of his living room surprised, as if caught in the act, while Charles enters his apartment, one hand on his hip, slightly disheveled, short of breath and above all, above all, seeming sorely lacking sleep.

“You shouldn't have given me your keys if you didn't want me to come in.”

It's not … wrong. 

“You can't just … kiss me and then leave like that ! Damn, Pierre, I've been thinking and messing with my head since yesterday, asking myself if you did that because you were drunk, because things were wrong, by a moment of madness or …”

The distance between them is too much and yet Charles' voice gradually turns into a whisper. He is hanging on his lips, at the slightest word he lets out.

“Or ?”

“Or because you have feelings for me. Or because it's real. I wanted it so real that …”

Charles shakes his head, striding over to him before grabbing him by the collar and resting his lips against his. Again. He can hardly believe it. The Monegasque's arms around him, to keep him as close as possible, so as not to let him go.

“Please, tell me, Pierre, tell me. Tell me it's real.”

**Author's Note:**

> To be forgiven for always talking about what's happening and to be curious over Charles and Carlos' bond. 
> 
> Anyway, I have been a bit absent lately, because I had some exams over and honestly it was hard to have time for everything, a bit too stressed over life ... anyway, now I can focus more on my projects, I hope this short story pleased you, thanks for reading !
> 
> tumblr : laeana


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